“I got this one about a year ago,” Cassian says softly, barely above a whisper. “Worst day of my life,” he adds. My heart breaks for him, for the pain he so clearly keeps locked up inside. “The grenade nearly killed one of my best friends. Sent a dozen more to the hospital, including me, Wilder, and Huxley, the other guys up here on the mountain with me.”
“Cassian,” I breathe, my eyes searching his. Deep green irises stare back at me, and I recognize the fear and anguish echoing in his soul as something similar to mine.
“Everything changed after that,” he continues. “I felt… angry. Cheated. I stopped sleeping. Stopped talking to everyone except Wilder, Huxley, and Elliot. Every day bled into the next, and on the rare occasion I slept for more than a few hours at a time without a flashback or a night terror ripping me from my slumber, I stopped caring whether I woke up at all.”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him truthfully, peering up into his mesmerizing green eyes.
A weak smile curls one corner of his lips as he shakes his head, snapping himself out of his reverie. “What did I tell you about apologizing for things that aren’t your fault?”
“I’m not saying sorry because I feel responsible. I just… I wish you didn’t have to experience any of that. I wish the world weren’t so cruel, and I’m sorry we have wars at all.”
Cassian tilts his head to the side, examining me as if seeing me in a whole new light. His eyes roam over my face, taking in all of me before locking on the side of my neck. I know exactly what he’s looking at. Part of me wants to cover up the scar or turn away from him and hide, but a bigger part wants to give him a little piece of my story. It’s only fair. He gave me a piece of his.
Slowly, so slowly, Cassian raises his hand to my face, giving me plenty of time to pull away. I don’t want to. When he gentlycups the side of my neck, I shiver and take a fortifying breath. The pad of his thumb brushes over the circular burn mark a few inches above my left collarbone, and I close my eyes against the memory of how I got it.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he whispers. “Just know that I think you’re beautiful. Scars and all.”
I furrow my brow, hardly believing what I’m hearing. Hedefinitelycalledmebeautiful this time. His sweet words are the final straw. I take a few more breaths and gather my thoughts before murmuring, “My uncle always drank, but it was out of control on poker nights.”
Cassian stops breathing, every muscle in his body tense as he waits for the rest of the scene to unfold.
“I tried to make myself scarce whenever his friends were around, but on poker nights, it was my responsibility to make sure everyone always had plenty of beer and snacks.”
Cassian nods, silently encouraging me to continue as he rubs soothing circles over my marred flesh with the pad of his thumb.
“Toward the end of poker nights, Uncle Terry liked to use me as entertainment. He’d throw his still-smoldering cigarette butts at me, giving himself a point for every time he hit me.”
"Jesus fucking Christ," Cassian growls under his breath. I've never had someone upset on my behalf, and I'll admit, it's nice having someone on my side. I've been alone for so damn long.
“Once Uncle Terry got to ten points, he’d light a cigar to celebrate, drag me over to where he was and decide where to mark me next. This time was my neck,” I whisper, nuzzling into his hand still holding me there. “Other times, it was my arms, legs, shoulders… wherever he could reach.”
“He used you as a scoreboard for his sick, twisted games,” Cassian says, finishing my thought. “Blakely, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry you grew up that way. Did your parents ever stop him?”
I shake my head. “I never knew my parents,” I confess. “My mom dropped me off on her brother and sister-in-law’s porch a week after I was born. That was the last anyone ever heard from her. I’m not sure who my father is or if he knows he has a daughter, but I stopped caring a while ago,” I tell him with a shrug.
“I’m sorry, beautiful,” he says again.
“What did we say about apologizing for things that aren’t our fault?” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. I didn’t mean to drag everything down with my sob story.
Cassian gives me a soft, sad smile, then leans forward and rests his forehead on mine. “I may not have caused your suffering, but knowing you had to go through everything alone tears my heart to shreds. I wish I could have been there for you earlier. No one deserves that kind of treatment, do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes,” I breathe, my eyes darting to his lips and back up to meet his emerald gaze. His eyes hold a mix of longing, empathy, and sorrow, along with something else. Something primal and hungry.
God, I feel it, too. I’ve been aching for him since accidentally walking in on him shirtless. Now that we’ve been touching and stroking each other for long moments and sharing secrets, that ache has only grown stronger.
"Have you ever been kissed?" Cassian whispers.
I tremble as his breath skates across my lips and shake my head.
His pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare. "May I have the honor?"
Instead of answering with words, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his in my first-ever kiss.
7
CASSIAN
Blakely parts her porcelain lips for me, letting me slide my tongue inside her mouth and get my first real taste of the enchanting woman I found only a few days ago. How did I survive this long without her?
